Grocery Store Talking
by parakeet17
Summary: Whenever you feel embarrassed because he caught you looking at him, just remember something: he was looking back. Loliver.
1. Looking Back

**A/N: Bonjour, fellow readers! Hey, long time no see! So, I was online yesterday and I decided to come on here since I hadn't visited in a while. And, quite frankly, I was a bit disappointed. I mean, have people not noticed the lack of decent Loliver on here (even though the writers finally got their act together and made Loliver a reality)? Honestly, it's been so long since I've had a story genuinely captivate me, where going to sleep wasn't an option because I **_**had **_**to finish this story, even if it meant failing my Spanish test the next day. Really, am I the only one who hasn't had that lately?**

**Anyways, I thought of this while at the grocery store with my sister and some guy in my grade walked through the doors . . . just as I was racing my cart down the aisle to get to the popcorn faster. And really, he seems like a cool guy to talk to, I just haven't yet. So, yeah, this idea popped into my head. I actually think about this a lot. Just another day in my crazy little world. Haha. Anyways, enjoy!**

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

God. I hate this. I really hate these kind of social situations. Especially this particular social situation. I really can't wait until I can drive and go to the grocery store by myself, that way when something like this pops up, I won't have to deal with it. I can just merrily skip along to the next available aisle, and act as if my face wasn't turning a bright shade of red, almost similar to a tomato. But no. Instead, I came with my mom to make sure she bought the right kind of Pop-Tarts, and this happens.

Have you noticed that every time you tell your parents how hard school is and that they wouldn't understand anything, they get all defensive? Like, I'll mope about the seriously congested hallways lacking any room to breathe, and my mom will just roll her eyes at me, claiming she was fifteen once, and I'm just exaggerating.

But then this happens, and they have no clue. And this isn't the worst of situations, so normally I'd just stay quiet and shuffle through all the magazines, but my mom is out to make my life a living nightmare. Oliver Oken, from my ninth period Biology class, is manning the register.

And right in front of him is a huge package of tampons. Mine, to be exact.

I told you this was bad.

Even worse? Instead of just letting him do his job, my mom's on a mission to find the coupon she cut out earlier. So he's just standing there awkwardly, holding the pink box, waiting patiently for my mom to find what she's looking for.

God, I've reminded her of this multiple times. Is she really that dense? I mean, we've been over this. Anytime we buy feminine products, we get a _girl_ cashier to check us out. _Not_ a male classmate of mine. Anything but that.

But on the bright side, at least he isn't seeing what bra size I wear.

"Ah, here it is," my mom said, feeling accomplished. Oliver put on his fake smile, showing off his pearly whites, which looked even whiter against his work-required red polo shirt.

"Great. So, your total comes to . . ." he read the amount off the screen and my mom fished around in her wallet for the exact change. Oliver looked at me for a moment, our eyes meeting briefly, but I turned away instantly.

Sure, he seems nice. In fact, my best friend, Miley, and I both think he's a really cool person. But there's that nagging fear in the back of your mind that you can't shake off. If we go to talk to him and make total idiots of ourselves, what will happen? I mean, we still have to see them in school for the rest of the year, as short as it may be, not to mention the rest of high school. Who knows what they'll tell their friends? What will they really think? We'll never know.

So for now, my mouth is staying sealed.

My mom grabbed the four plastic bags, handing me two of them, and smiled at Oliver. "Thanks, have a nice day."

"You too," he replied, and out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed he stole another glance at me before turning to the next customer. I faintly heard him greet the elderly man, the usual required words spilling out of his mouth.

My mom and I walked to the car, set the bags in the trunk, and drove off. Aside from the radio, it was silent for a few moments before my mom turned to me. "So, Lilly, who was the boy?"

I inwardly groaned. She's more observant than I thought. "What are you talking about?" I asked in an exasperated voice, pretending like I had no clue what she meant by the question.

"Oh, come on. You're my daughter. I know you like the back of my hand. And normally you're begging me to buy you some gum or are talking about what television show is on tonight, but you were quiet. You knew him." Darn, she was smarter than I thought. "So, I'll try this again, who's the boy?" She repeated, a smug smirk playing on her lips.

This time I groaned both inwardly and outwardly. There was no way to get around this. "His name is Oliver Oken. He's in my Biology class," I explained simply, not revealing too much. I didn't want to say anything that might give her ideas. It was silent again, and I knew wheels were turning in her head.

"Mom, please don't try to do anything . . ." I started, already pleading with her to not make a fool of me. It's only been a minute and she has me at my knees.

"I'm not thinking of anything like that," she explained, turning left on to our street. "His mom and I were in the some maternity class, in preparation for you two. Of course, you were born two months earlier than him, so I didn't see her throughout the rest of the time, but she was nice to talk to. We got along really well."

Whatever. We pulled in to the driveway and I hopped out, yanking the two heaviest bags out from the trunk. She was still reminiscing from the days of nearly sixteen years ago, and I would let her stay that way. I may not like that she's thinking about calling up Oliver's mom for a get together, but my mom doesn't have that many girl friends. After the divorce, she kind of only continued to talk to people she worked with, in fear that others would betray her, like my dad did.

Sure, I'm pissed that he cheated on my mom four years ago and made my family split, but maybe it was for the best. At least they weren't at each other's throats. Luckily they got the divorce before things got too ugly. So now my brother and I spend every other weekend at my dad's place a few hours away. I don't mind. Besides, his girlfriend makes really good brownies.

Walking through the door, I dodged a headlock from my older brother, Ben. We have the same colored hair, but his eyes are forest green, like my dad's. But other than that, were pretty much the same. Same skin tone, same facial features, even the same freckle behind our right ear. Someone might mistake us for twins. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Ben, honey, could you please start the pasta while I go make a quick business call?" My mom asked, already knowing the answer. He may be an eighteen year old boy almost out of high school, but my brother still does everything he's supposed to do.

"I'm on it," he replied, already digging through the plastic bags on the lookout for the rotini pasta my mom and I had just purchased. My mom was walking upstairs when he pulled the pink box out. Looking it over and noting my grimace, he smiled. "I have a feeling you didn't get a girl cashier."

"No," I moaned, plopping down on the stool nearest to me. "In fact, just the opposite. We got a guy. From my school. In my Bio class."

"Ouch," he laughed, turning the stove on to boil the water after successfully locating the noodles. "Eh, considering you aren't a tomato and faking an illness, I take it he wasn't a jerk."

I sighed. "No, he was really nice about it, but still. Awkward."

I slid off the stool, grabbed my backpack, and bolted upstairs, telling Ben to call me when dinner's ready. Surprisingly enough, homework is a good distraction for something embarrassing that happened earlier in the day. Not.

God, that was so incredibly uncomfortable. I can only imagine what he'll tell his friends tomorrow.

This'll be fun.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"So there I am, standing there, holding this pink package of tampons, and she's ruffling through her purse, trying to find the right coupon!"

Ugh. This is horrible. For the last ten minutes, Oliver's been telling his friends what weird things he's seen while working over the last weekend. Unfortunately, this is my part.

"Dude! That's so weird! Did you know the girl? Like, does she go to our school?" One of the guys asked, and all the others seemed suddenly interested. Psh, and they say guys don't get hooked on gossip. They so do. This is total proof.

But still. He's gonna blow my cover. Well, whatever cover I ever really had. But still. Sophmore boys are the worst. Maybe even worse than Freshman boys. Oliver is gonna say it was me, and then whatever reputation I've been trying to build up over the last two years will crumble. Make it quick, boy. Just get it over with. Like tearing a Band-Aid off.

"No, man, this was some old lady," he said after a brief pause, almost unnoticeable.

"No way! Ew, man, that's so gross!"

Wait, what? Did he not just say my name? I spared a glance forward, towards Oliver and all of his friends. I saw them cracking up like it was the funniest thing ever, but I also saw Oliver's eyes dart towards me. Multiple times.

"Lilly!" A voice from my left said frantically.

"What?" I asked back, just as agitated.

"What, were you sleeping with your eyes open or something? I've been trying to get your attention for the last, like, minute," Miley said, her southern drawl barely noticeable after living in California for so the past few years.

"Sorry," I said, tearing my gaze away from the guy and instead focusing on my best friend. "I was just staring off in to space. My bad." An excuse that always works. "So, what did you want?"

"Have you noticed," she said, dropping her voice to a whisper so no one would listen to the conversation, "that Oliver's been staring at you all period? Like, he looks at you every ten seconds. At first I thought it was cute. But now it's kinda creepy."

Once she mentioned this, we watched him from the corners of our eyes, and sure enough, he'd look our way every now and then. "Miley, he's probably looking at you. I mean, when's the last time a guy was looking at me? Especially with you right next to me?"

Miley rolled her eyes, exasperated. We'd gone over this before. For some reason, it appeared that no guy was attracted to the tomboy type, especially when her girly friend was standing only a few feet away. I told her that she could have any guy she wants, and she knew it. I mean, she's Hannah freaking Montana. She could have any guy in the world with a quick little snap of her fingers.

"Whatever, Lilly. Besides, I have my eyes of Derek, the cute skater boy sitting next to him," she stated, leaning a little to the side to get a better view. "But honestly, I think he's in to you. He's never done this before."

I looked away, another good thing to do if you don't want to raise suspicion. As long as you didn't do it too obviously, people just think you're focusing on your homework. And hopefully that's what Miley was thinking right now.

"Wait, did something happen between you two? Like, did you run in to him at the mall? Or does he mow your grandma's lawn? Or, oh my god, did he save your life surfing?!" Typical Miley. Always thinking about the most dramatic things first.

Starting to get annoyed with my impossible Geometry homework and Miley's nagging, I freaked. "Of course, the only time a guy would ever notice me is if we had some kind of interaction with each other," I said, exhausted. But after seeing her look so upset, I apologized. "It was nothing Miley. I just saw him at the grocery store. Nothing major. And sorry I snapped, but I just want to think. Well, and this homework is torture."

Pleased with my answer, Miley shrugged, stole another look at Derek, and turned back to whatever song she was currently writing. When I took one last glance at Oliver and he caught me, I almost blushed. But then I remembered what Miley told me one time. Whenever you feel embarrassed because he caught you looking at him, just remember something. He was looking back.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**Ha, I know. Kind of a sucky first chapter, but I like it. I had to start things somewhere, right? Right. So . . . yeah. This isn't the story I had mentioned at the end of Anything But Up, but the idea of that faded from my mind, and was replaced by this one. I have the same ending planned, though, so it's kind of a combination. Anyways, tell me what you think. Should I continue? I'd love to hear your opinions and ideas! So drop a review, I swear I'll respond. Pinky promise. **

**Xoxo,  
****Parakeet17**


	2. Melting

**A/N: Hey everybody! As promised, I responded to all the reviews people left. All ten of them! Seriously, I'm floored. I wasn't expecting this story to become that popular just by the first chapter! And it really makes me smile that so many people like this idea, and think that I've kept the characters pretty much the same. You have no idea how much that made my day. And I stuck to my word and updated on time! I plan on doing that for this story, and if I don't feel free to send me a strongly worded PM. Haha, anyways, here's the next chapter! Enjoy!**

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

This is what I've been reduced to.

And the sad thing? It's only been two weeks. Quite possibly less than that. It only took me a few days to realize what was truly going on. With his sense of humor, good looks, good grade point average, and nice personality, it's a wonder I didn't have a crush on him a long time ago.

You see, when a guy has all of those things, that's when I tend get a bit loopy. The personality and overall character are really important, trust me, but Oliver is also really good looking. I have a thing for tall guys. With shaggy brown hair. And tan skin. And brown eyes. Guess what? He has all of those things. And maybe it's only because all the really hot bad boys in movies wear these, but when a guy wears a plain white shirt, I basically melt right then and there. And, of course, guess what he was wearing this morning when I saw him walk in to school. Just guess.

A plain white t-shirt.

No, don't do this to me, Oliver. Is he _trying_ to make my freakish girl hormones take over my body? Is that really necessary? Plus, it was a long weekend, and I had heard he went hiking in northern California, so when he walked in the school, he was tanner. And his hair was all swayed to the side, another characteristic I'm fond of.

I highly doubt he even knows what he's doing to me.

You know, up until about five years ago, things were much simpler. Ah, I miss the days when I though boys had cooties. _So_ much easier back then.

But you know what's weird? Well, besides the whole situation already. The glances at me? The ones that started after I saw him at work? They haven't stopped. They're still there, strong as ever. Only now it's a bit more awkward, considering my glances have become increasingly more frequent. We catch each other's eyes all the time. Like, at least three times per class period. You'd think we'd stop after having that happen so often, but no. We're just crazy sophmores.

Speaking of which, it's the end of the year and I really don't want to have to attend any form of summer school. Focusing time. With finals coming up, and that huge concert coming that I've been begging my mom and saving my money to go to, I also can't risk anything that might make me more stressed out or upset my parents. I've gotta be completely clean. Like a whistle.

But when you think about it, whistles are actually pretty dirty and disgusting. Seriously, they're filthy. It's a little piece of metal with a hole in the top. And it goes in your mouth. Do people even know how many germs are in there? And really, spit can't be that sanitary. A dog's drool is more sanitary than ours. And that thought kinda scares me.

_Oh, darn it! Focus! Who cares about whistles? I need to be concentrating on what mitosis is_, I thought. My teacher continued to nearly bore our class to death with his monotonous voice when, half way through his slide show, the door to the class room opened up, creaking loudly enough to grab the attention of every student.

It was Oliver. And quite frankly, it made me happy. But I couldn't even show that, because then I'd look stupid. I mean, who slightly smiles and blushes during a presentation on the process of the typical form of cell division? No one that I know. Luckily, though, he had put a sweatshirt on, so I saved myself the embarrassment of drooling. Nah, just kidding. Almost.

Darn. I like him a lot more than I thought I did.

I caught his stare for the second time that day, and then we both looked away and went back to what we were doing. Just as I was analyzing my notes to be sure I had copied everything correctly, a small note in the shape of a triangle popped out of nowhere, making me jump. Noticing the bubbly handwriting of my best friend, I pried open the note and read it.

_Don't think I didn't see that. Something's up. And you're gonna tell me. Meet me today after school, at Rico's._

Crap. She knows. And I'd been trying so hard to hide it.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

A few hours later, I was sitting at Rico's Surf Shack right along the beach, receiving my change after paying for my Berry Blast smoothie. Miley, having already gotten hers, immediately grabbed my forearm and led my down to a highly secluded section of sand, far away from anyone who might overhear us.

"So . . ." I said awkwardly after a few moments of uncomfortable silence, genuinely not wanting to start this conversation.

"Lilly," Miley started, cutting me off. Not that I was really going anywhere with that. "What was that? Today, during Biology? When Oliver walked in, you went all googly eyed and looked him over head to toe, like you did when you had a crush on Lucas."

Ugh. Lucas. Or, should I say Lu-kiss-every-girl-in-school. That two timing, backstabbing, conniving little brat. Ugh. I hate him. But trying to act nonchalant about the situation in front of Miley, I shrugged. "He walked in the room, I saw him, and looked back down at my notes. So did everyone else in the class."

"Not me," she stated smugly, taking a sip of her smoothie. "I was looking at you. Ever since you saw him, you seemed different. Whenever his name pops up in a conversation, you're suddenly much more interested. And you said nothing happened between you two . . ."

I rolled my eyes. Hopefully it was a good cover. "Nothing did happen, Miley. You're overreacting. There's nothing going on. I swear." It wasn't a total lie. Our little glancing contest isn't anything major, is it? I don't think so.

"Lilly, just admit it. You like him."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

I put the back of my hand against my forehead. Sometimes Miley is just like a little five year old. She'll annoy you until you tell the truth. She will succeed, and she won't take no for an answer. "If I say yes, will you shut up?"

Her eyes grew to twice their normal size. That can't be healthy. "I knew it! I knew it! When I saw you today, and with the staring contests, and seeing him at work . . . I knew it!" Her smile was idiotic and it showed off her professionally whitened teeth. God forbid Hannah Montana has teeth even slightly normal colored.

But unfortunately, her smile was contagious, which blew whatever cover I had managed to maintain.

"Miley, it isn't that big of a deal," I promised, not even lying. What was she so obsessed about?

"But Lilly, it _is_ a big deal! Come to think of it, I can totally picture you two together . . . and I'm not gonna lie, he's pretty cute, too. Aww, what if you two started dating!"

"Miley, I barely know him. Sure, he's been in most of my classes since the sixth grade, but that doesn't mean I know every aspect of his life. And I wouldn't want to, either. That'd be creepy. Besides, how many people in our grade have you known since you moved here in seventh grade?" Miley thought about it, then shrugged, which to me meant that she knew almost everybody. So did I. "Okay, now out of all those people, can you tell me at least three things that a good friend would know that you, not a good friend, know?"

For a moment, the question confused Miley. Eh, I can't blame her. Even I was getting a bit frazzled by my wacky wording. "I get it, Lilly. There are people in our grade that I know nothing about, and Oliver is one of them," she stated.

I interrupted her, "Exactly."

She shot me a glare, and then continued to talk. "But, Lilly, you and I both agree that Oliver seems like a really cool person to talk to. And now you know where he works. Besides, if your mom makes you get a job this summer, you could work there. You'd be working partners and first talk about work, then slowly morph and evolve it in to your likes and dislikes, and then next thing you know, POW! You two are dating!"

I can't even describe the weird look I gave her. "Miley, have you actually thought about this before? And what you said could take months to happen. It's not just gonna be as quick as you said. Miley, it's fine. Whatever. Just let it go."

"No, Lilly. I won't. You like him, and we already thought he'd be a nice guy, so we're going to make this happen. You two will be friends by the end of this summer, at the very least. I can guarantee it."

Is it weird to say that sometimes she scares me?

"Seriously, Lilly. I saw the way you looked at him. You really like him."

I sighed. "Miley, I also look that way at my poster of Orlando Bloom, and that relationship is obviously never going to happen."

"I know this is hard, but focus. For just a minute," she said, grabbing my shoulders to make a point. Ugh, last time I tried to focus I started thinking about whistles, and then Oliver walked through the door, and I had to be stupidly obvious, so now I'm here. Really, boys never get you anywhere.

I glared at her. Now she's got my full attention. "Lilly, we'll make it happen. Within a month, you two will be friends. Maybe more, if you're lucky."

"Why are so intent on making sure everything works out this way? You've helped me do things before when I've liked a guy, but this is a whole new step. Why?" I couldn't keep that thought from racing through my mind this entire time. What if things didn't pan out the way we planned? I'd make a complete and total idiot of myself, that's what.

"Come on, Lilly. You know you want this. And you know I can do this. Just trust me."

My guilt factor kicks in when she says stuff like that, and she knows it. Miley stood up, dusted the sand off of her, and took a sip of her smoothie while holding her hand out for me. She helped pull me up, and I took the first sip of my smoothie since I'd gotten it a while ago. Yum.

"So, Lilly, can you trust me to make this work?"

I looked at her hesitantly. "I guess so . . ."

Miley gave a satisfactory smile and then skipped along the shore, looking for sea glass. God, what have I gotten myself in to?

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**Silly Miley and her crazy antics. And you wanna know a little secret? Everything Lilly mentioned that she liked in a guy, that's pretty much me right there. Seriously, every single word of it. Well, except for the brown eyed part. I prefer guys with blue eyes, but still. It's the same basic idea. Anyways, the amount of reviews for the last chapter completely blew me away, and I'd love it for everyone to do it again. Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed, added this to their favorites, or put it on alert! That's means so much to me. So . . . yeah. Drop a review, and I pinky promise you'll get a response. Bye!**

**xoxo,  
****Parakeet17**


	3. Index Cards

**A/N: Woo! Updating on time! Yay! I've been super busy with finals and end of the year junk, so I didn't get a chance to respond to the reviews. My bad. But many super thanks to all ten reviewers! I promise to respond to any reviews for this chapter! But now it's summer vacation! Yay! Woo! I'm so excited, I think I'll post this chapter!! Haha, enjoy!**

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Miley's a miracle worker.

She's like some kind of wizard. Really, how does she manage to do this? It would have taken me a whole freaking week to figure out a plan. But her? No, it only took her a few hours.

After our little talk on the beach, we decided to go back to my house and watch a few movies, compare notes, and pig out on junk food. Mainly the first and last ones. Anyways, as we were picking out which comedy to watch, my mom walked in the front door, complaining about some huge project she has coming up. She said that tonight we should have a bit of fun because tomorrow she'll be swamped with work and over her head in files, paperwork, notes on index cards, and a constantly ringing business phone.

And that's when Miley hatched her plan.

If you've ever met my mom, you know this: she's an organized mess. While working, no matter how hectic and crazy things are, she'll always know exactly where something is. And her notes? Like the work of a professional. She can write fast and small, yet still manage to make it be legible, all on a small index card.

But if you've ever met my mom, you'd also know this: If one thing's out of place when she needs it, she'll go crazy. Seriously, one time I could have swore she tore a few strands of hair from her head after being so stressed out. She ran around the house for an hour, ransacking through everything we owned in search of her little stack of blue post-it notes. It turns out they were hidden under a stack of graphs from work, but still. It took me three hours to clean up the mess she concocted in a matter of minutes.

So when my mom mentioned how she'd need all these things, Miley's eyes lit up. I knew it would cause my mom some stress, but I couldn't help but smile a little. She was good at this stuff. Scary good.

After laughing our way through a few movies and eating our weight in pepperoni pizza, it was time for Miley to head home. And apparently I was the only one who noticed that her sweatshirt was slightly more bulky. And that the bulk was rectangular shaped. Almost the exact same size as a stack of index cards. Which were conveniently no longer in our drawer by the telephone.

Miley winked at me as she stepped out the door on her way home. And it was then that I knew this was going to work. I mean, it was one of Miley's plans. They almost always work. Sure, they fall through near the end sometimes, but those are the ones I don't have good feelings about. And trust me, I have a very good feeling about this one.

Long story short, I'm kind of excited for tomorrow.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

It was like clockwork.

My mom woke up on Saturday, made a cup of coffee, watched her typical morning talk shows, got ready for the day, and came downstairs. I was in the middle of eating my chocolaty cereal when the explosion occurred. She had just walked in to her office a few minutes earlier, but was now sprinting out, racing towards the drawer by the telephone, on the hunt for the pack of index cards.

"Lilly, where are my index cards?" She asked, still digging through every single drawer in the house.

"Uh . . . I don't think we have any. I mean, there were some in the drawer, but Miley and I used them last night while we were going over everything for finals this week. Sorry, I forgot you needed them for your work presentation," I lied. Miley and I didn't really use them. Heck, Miley's probably either doodling her name and Derek's inside of a heart, or chucking them at Jackson's head for messing something up.

My mom took in a deep breath in an effort to calm her nerves, only slightly succeeding. "It's alright, we just need to, you know, go get some . . ." my mom said, looking at her ratty old shirt and sweatpants. "Here, I'll go change, you get ready, and then we can split up when we get to the store. We'll find them faster that way."

I nodded, finishing off my cereal and putting the dirty dish in the sink. Once my mom was out of the room, I smiled. I texted Miley, telling her how it all worked out, then asked how she knew Oliver's work schedule.

She responded by saying that with ears, you can hear a lot of things in the school. And, slightly weirded out by what she was saying, I left it at that. Soon afterwards, my mom came running down the stairs, completely dressed up in some casual jogging suit with her car keys in hand.

And now I'm here. Where Oliver works. And it's not just a grocery store, either. It's like an everything store. It has school supplies, gardening tools, personal health stuff, toys, decorations, party favors, and a bunch of other things. You name it, they've got it.

God, I sound like an infomercial.

My mom and I split up in different directions, and I automatically took the side of the store with the index cards. I was prepared to wrack my brain for everything on taxes and sales we learned earlier in the year in math, but I wasn't prepared to see another person in the aisle.

There, stacking multiple packs of neon colored index cards, was Oliver.

At the sight of someone else, he looked up and we had yet another little staring competition. He quickly looked away, and I noticed he pulled something out of his pocket. Trying not to stare, I looked at all the different cards. Would my mom want small ones, or large ones? Should they be multi-colored so she can color coordinate them, or just the regular white kind with blue lines? So many choices, so many different prices . . . I think it's safe to say I hate this.

"Lilly?"

At the mention of my name, my head shot up. Instead of seeing my mom like I'd expected, Oliver was standing in front of me, a pen and pack of notes in hand.

"Uh, yeah?" Oh, real smooth. Way to play it cool.

"Uh, hey. Sorry to bother you, but Skunkle handed out this review packet, and I brought it to work, just in case I'd have some spare time to study. But, uh, I can't get number twelve. I called all of my friends, and they're either stumped, or just blowing it off," he stated, looking slightly more red in the face than usual. Nervous? Talking to me? No, he probably just was really close to accidentally choking on his own spit.

I, on the other hand, looked redder than a freaking tomato. "Yeah. Sure," I managed to say smoothly. Right then, I was just happy my voice didn't crack. He handed me the packet, and I looked it over, remembering how I was just doing this a few days ago. Flipping to the second page, my eyes focused in on the only blank spot on the page. Literally every section was covered in writing, whether it was a dull pencil, red pen, or bold and bleeding permanent marker, there was writing everywhere. I guess he put a lot more effort in to school than I though he did.

"Yeah, it's the one right there. Uh, sorry about all the mess. I've been trying to fill this thing out, and apparently no one ever has the same kind of pen or pencil," he chuckled, pulling a smile out of me. Although, he could make me smile even without cracking a joke. God, that was so corny.

"It's alright. I did mine while eating extra saucy pepperoni pizza and having a movie marathon with Miley, so you can only imagine how terrible mine looks," I smiled, reading the question a few times and wracking my brain for the answer. I heard a slight laugh, and if I wasn't a tomato before, that sealed the deal. He actually laughed at something I said. And I don't even think I'm that funny.

After a bit of silence, Oliver glanced at me. "Uh, do you know the answer? I mean, it's fine if you don't. I was just wondering." He rubbed the back of his neck. Was he nervous or something?

"Um . . . I think the answer is mitosis. I'm not sure, though. The question is phrased kind of weird, so maybe you shouldn't write that down, and check it instead. But, uh, I think that's the right answer," I stuttered, giving the packet back to him. Trying not to look creepy, I grabbed a random stack of index cards as he scribbled something in the corner of the page. Most likely my answer, so he could check it later.

When he was done, he shoved the pen back in the front pocket of his khaki pants and grinned at me. "Thanks, Lilly. You're a lifesaver." I smiled back just as the manager rounded the corner and spotted me and Oliver.

"Oken," he barked, clearly annoyed with something. "Do I pay you to flirt with pretty girls? No, I don't. I pay you to stack everything and do your job correctly, _without_ any disruptions," he said, looking at me pointedly.

Oliver's smile had faded. "Sorry, Sir. She was just helping me answer a question for this big test we have coming up . . ." he said, but after noting the look the manager was giving, stopped his explanation. "Yeah, I'll get back to work. I'm on it."

I was still flushed over the _flirting with pretty girls_ remark, but decided not to get Oliver in any more trouble than he was already in. "Uh, bye. See you at school, I guess," I said awkwardly, not knowing what a person really should say in a situation like this. Oliver nodded, and I slowly stepped away, with the index cards in hand.

Was that all just a day dream? As corny as it sounds, did we actually just make some sort of contact besides our bizarre little staring contests? That was the most we've ever said to each other since the second grade, and _all I had to do was take some index cards away?_

I should have done this a long time ago.

As I was thinking about our conversation, replaying everything in my mind over and over again, I accidentally ran in to someone. "Oh, sorry . . ." I started to apologized, but frowned when I only saw my mom. She had a creepy grin on her face. Oh, god, she better not have seen me and Oliver talking.

"Oh, good job sweetie. You managed to find the colored ones that were on sale! But, even better, I have something for you . . ." I swear, my eyes lit up. I never get any kind of gift. Seriously, I'm even paying for the concert I wanna go to. The full ticket price and the cost of a t-shirt, not to mention any other thing I ever want to buy. Christmas and your birthday are the best, by far. Free gifts. Can you say amazing?

"Oh, what is it?" I'm pretty sure I looked like a five year old on a sugar rush, but can I help it if I'm excited? No, I really can't.

"It's . . ." She had one hand behind her back and was slowly pulling it out, increasing the suspicion. I tapped my foot impatiently and she laughed. "A job application! If you get a job, it'll help pay for that concert you wanna go to! Who is it, again? The Arizona, or something like that?" She furrowed her brow, genuinely trying to remember the name of my current favorite band.

"No, mom, it isn't The Arizona. The band is called The Maine, and they're _from_ Arizona," I explained, taking the blue sheet of paper out of my mom's hand. A job? Really? Over the summer? Here? Of all places, why couldn't I work at some place cool? Why are parents so intent on torturing their kids?

But, I can't help but smile a bit. What Miley said was right. Is it not enough that she's a secret popstar, but that she also can see the future? She said that if we had a plan, I would see him here, and that would be my chance to start up a conversation with him, and that happened. And she said that if I got a summer job here, it would be our chance to connect and actually get to know each other. You know, get something going between us. And look, that opportunity was knocking right on my front door. All I had to do was answer it.

Actually taking notice of the little blue flyer, I looked at everything. They had flexible hours, not that I'd be doing anything that I'd need to schedule around, but it's nice to have that option open. Let's see, they also pay a decent amount of money per hour, not to mention little tiny discounts and bonuses that come along with the job. Everything seemed to be fine, though I'm only fifteen and have never even had a job before, so I'd have nothing to compare this to, but still. Six hours a day, in an air conditioned space, getting paid to do almost nothing? And I've seen workers here who have their iPods in while they do stuff. Come to think of it, this might not be too bad of an idea.

"So, what do you think?" My mom sounded sincerely happy. What, one less kid to deal with during the summer? Nah, just kidding. She's probably just happy that I won't always be asking her for money now. "I already looked it over and briefly talked with the manager, and everything's good. Lilly, this is a good opportunity. You can make faster money than you could baby sitting, which means even more for you to spend with Miley or at your little concert."

Oh, she knows how to rope me in. "You know what? I think I just might actually do it." I smiled, and it wasn't fake either. "Just, feel free to skip over the, _oh, my little girl is growing up so fast_ speech. I think we could spare some time for the both of us."

My mom was beaming. I think she was even happier than me, though I'm not sure why. I mean, I'm the one who'll be working side by side with my crush. What does she get out of it? "Come on, we can fill it out right here! They have pens we can borrow!"

When I was offered the pen, I couldn't help but notice that it was the exact same one Oliver had been using. I signed my name, filled out my past experiences, medical information, left a phone number, and a bunch of other things. When I was done, I had to stop my mom from literally running over to the drop box. Laughing all the way at her crazy antics, I skipped over to the box, folded the sheet of paper in half, gave it a small kiss for dramatic effect, and dropped it in.

When I looked up, my mom was ecstatic. I'm still not sure what was so incredible about this experience for her, but she was soaking up every minute of it. But when I looked up, I didn't just see her. Standing a few aisles away was Oliver, watching us with an interested look.

And it may just have been my imagination, but I could have sworn he was smiling.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**A/N: Aww, that was sweet. I think this might be my favorite chapter that I've written so far, and it's only the beginning! So, has anyone else come in to awkward situations with classmates in public places, or had a really hot guy do something nice for you? Drop a review and tell me! I love it when people say what's going on in their lives, and it makes the reviews longer. I love long reviews. Anyways, please review! Thanks!**

**Peace, Love, and Summer Vacation!  
****Parakeet17**


	4. First Day

**A/N: Hello everyone! Wow, I'm so sorry it took me almost two weeks to update, but this week was a surprisingly busy one, considering how dull my summer days usually are. But aside from that, HOLY COW! You guys left me floored after all the reviews. I swear, you all are amazing. I got **_**nineteen**_** reviews! That's one away from twenty! For one chapter! So this chapter is dedicated to all of who reviewed or even just clicked on this story. This chapter is especially dedicated to ****believeinlove08****, who actually works at a grocery store and sent me an incredible PM to make this story that much more real. So thanks to everyone! Enjoy!**

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Not wanting Miley to get distracted with other ideas while she should be focusing on her finals, I didn't tell her anything. She had just had an incredibly successful Hannah concert recently, leaving the critics raving about her, and she was still on cloud nine from that, so distracting her from my current events wasn't too hard. Every time something along the lines of Oliver would start to come up, I'd mention some frustrating thing that happened at school, or how I couldn't wait for her next concert. Luckily, though, it only took three days and we were done with finals.

Even better, we were done with school.

"Ah, I'm so excited! Lilly, imagine all the great Hannah things we can do together! Plus, the concert is coming up!" I was surprised that she sounded genuinely excited about it. I mean, I adore The Maine, but she wasn't too pleased. But she was the one who managed to get us incredible front row seats.

"Miley, I know you don't wanna go to it. I'm still looking for someone else to come with me so you don't have to," I explained, walking in to the local smoothie bar. Miley waited patiently for us to both get our drinks before leaving and continuing the conversation.

"Come on, Lilly. It's not that I don't wanna go . . ." her voice faded out and I gave her a pointed look. "Okay, I don't wanna go. Sure, the lead singer is hot, but I just can't get in to their music. It's good . . . it just isn't my thing."

We went on about the concert for the next half hour, me trying to convince her to go, and Miley using every excuse to wriggle her way out of it. Then I guess Miley remembered something, because her eyes lit up.

"Lilly! Oh, I meant to tell you earlier, but I forgot. My bad. But anyways, when the finals were over and we were waiting for the time to be officially done, I looked over and saw Oliver's folder! Not only did it have a sticker of The Maine, but it also had his work hours sticking out! This is perfect! Now you can go see him during the work hours and talk to him, and then offer him the ticket to the concert!"

Miley was beaming as she dug around in her purse for something. A few seconds later, when she pulled out a piece of scratch paper, I gave her a weird look. "What," I pointed a finger at the wrinkled sheet, "is that?"

"This," Miley paused for dramatic effect as she handed the paper to me, "is a copy of Oliver's work hours. When I saw them sticking out, I copied them just for you." She hesitated for a minute before continuing. "In a way that isn't creepy at all," she added after recognizing how weird she sounded.

I smiled. This is perfect. Now, time to break the news to Miley.

"Funny," I grinned, handing the paper back to Miley as she shoved it back in her designer purse carelessly. "That's almost the exact same schedule I have."

"Wow, that is weird . . ." her eyes drifted to the floor and I waited for it to dawn on her. "Wait, did you just say that it was the same schedule?" Her mouth dropped to the floor.

"Yup. When we were there this past weekend, I saw him there, had a miniature conversation with him, and my mom showed me the flyer they had out. Apparently they're looking for more work, and this gives me a chance to make some more cash. And, even better, a chance to get closer to Oliver."

Inside, I couldn't deny the pathetic feeling in the pit of my stomach. I mean, he's just one guy. And I'm just a girl. We're only fifteen, and I've never gone so far out of my way just to get a guy's attention.

Miley's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "You and Oliver are gonna work together?!" I nodded my head, and a large smile appeared on her face. "Wait, you and Oliver had a _conversation_ together?!"

I laughed at her antics and couldn't fight the smile on my face. Unfortunately, I couldn't dodge the blush creeping up my face, either. "Yeah, we went there to pick up the index cards and I expected to see him in the check out lanes, but when I turned the corner, he was there, stacking multiple packs of index cards and post-it notes."

"Well, what did he say?" Miley was leaning so far forward in her chair, she was on the brink of falling flat on her face. Ha, come to think of it, that would actually be a pretty hilarious sight.

"Well, I was just standing there, trying not to stare and hoping to pick out something my mom would like, when he came up to me and asked me about this one question on the Biology review packet. You wouldn't believe it, he had everything filled out. Every last detail was written out, almost like he took time to copy it from the book. It was as if he actually cared, which surprises me because, come on, have you _seen _the guys at our school? They don't care about grades. Sure, they care enough to make sure they don't fail, but that's mostly because they don't wanna get grounded. So when I saw that he took his time and carefully worked on it, it was a pleasant surprise."

Miley's simple smile had morphed into a grin spreading from ear to ear. Her and the Cheshire Cat could be cousins. "Why didn't you tell me all of this before? I mean, normally I would have asked for every detail, but this was days ago! I mean, how am I supposed to get a play-by-play if you don't tell me when these things happen?"

"Miley, I knew you would act like this, and then you'd start freaking out or thinking of another little scheme to get me and Oliver together. You'd be doing all of that when you should have been focusing on finals. But now that they're done, I feel no guilt about spilling everything to you. Well, as much as I can remember," I added. It sounded more honest.

Truth be told, I didn't forget a single thing. I could still tell you what kinds of index cards he was stacking, and how many different colored writing materials he used on his review packet. I could recite what he said to me, and what I said to him in response, word for word. I can remember how he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, almost as if he was nervous or something. I can even remember how he flushed slightly when the manager made the comment about flirting with pretty girls. But most of all, I remember the smile on his face when he saw me drop the job application in the box.

"Lilly, when a girl likes a guy, she remembers all of the details, even the tiniest ones, when something this fantastic comes along. So you're telling me that you don't remember a single thing?" Miley had a look of disbelief written all over her face. I'll admit, with her knowing how I react to guys, it seemed a bit unbelievable.

"Miley, I was so nervous, how was I supposed to remember anything? I was expecting to find him in the check out lanes, not in the same aisle that I needed to be in. And then when he started talking to me? Please, I was just focused on not tripping over my words," I explained in a tone of voice that could totally pass as being truthful. Huh. I'm better at this lying thing than I thought I was.

Miley thought it over. And I guess it all sounded like something I would do, considering she gave a small shrug and went back to sipping her smoothie. Maybe she knew I was hiding something, or maybe she was genuinely clueless. Either way, she was off my back and that's all I really wanted.

"But," she said suddenly, nearly making me choke on my smoothie, "you have to tell me everything that happens. Even if it's something small, like his hand accidentally bumping yours, you tell me, and don't spare a single detail."

Oh, joy.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Looking at him, you'd laugh. I had to bite my tongue to make sure I didn't. The manager was just like the nerdy guy you see in television shows and movies. His hair was some unnatural reddish-brown color, and normally it would look attractive if it was styled properly, or even left alone for that matter, but the manager had it parted at the side and slicked back. By the looks of it, a whole bottle of hair gel had been used. Either that or he had coated his hair with hairspray . . . twice. In typical nerd fashion, he wore a hideously colored pastel shirt, tucked in to his pants, which were only an inch or so below is waist. He didn't have any glasses, but his hazel eyes seemed almost fake. And, are you ready for the best part? He wore penny loafers. My _grandfather_ wears penny loafers.

"You're Lilly Truscott, I presume?" The thin man paced back and forth while looking over the blue sheet of paper. "It says here you have no prior experience, but no one ever does. Everything looks correct, and your name tag reads the exact same thing as your resume."

He handed me the small metal rectangle, and I promptly pinned it to the red polo shirt I was wearing for the job. He went over the brief rules of what was to be expected of an employee and gave me a copy of my daily schedule, so I'd know where to go. "Well, Lilly, I have a busy day ahead of me, so I'm going to have to hunt someone down to help you." He led me out the door and in to the front end of the store. "I remember Oliver Oken talking with you the other day," he said as we walked up to Oliver's booth at the check out lanes.

Looking pointedly at us, he grimaced a bit. "Oken, can I trust you to train the new girl without getting off track?"

Oliver's eyes darted towards me briefly before locking his gaze with the manager's. "Yes, sir. I'll go over everything you showed me when I first started working here," he promised.

"Well, I'm going to have to trust you. Good luck to you both," he stated before walking away, angrily responding to some message he'd received on his phone.

Oliver waited until he was completely out of earshot before talking. "Uh, hey," he said, giving me a smile.

"Hey," I responded, feeling slightly awkward.

"Uh, the job looks pretty easy, but it's harder than you might think. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it after a while," he said, motioning towards the cash register. "Come here," he said, ushering me to the contraption. The butterflies in my stomach must have rapidly multiplied their population judging by the knot I felt in the pit of my stomach.

If you're a hermit and have never been to a grocery store, you should know that the little compartments in the check out lanes are for one person and one person only. Sure, it's a bit small, but it gives the person at least a bit of room to shuffle around. So when it's that small even with just one person occupying the space, you can only imagine how cramped it would be if two people were squeezed in there. Oliver and I were touching shoulders, rather uncomfortably I might add, but I didn't mind. Come on, what right-minded teenage girl wouldn't love to have a cute guy right next to her, showing her how to work a cash register? Not me, I can tell you that.

"This is the cash register, obviously," he told me, patting the plastic box. It's pretty simple, actually. You scan the items, we'll get to that next, and the price shows up on this screen here." He pointed to the small thing just above the register, and I nodded. I recognized all of this stuff. I've been here countless times, so I knew how it all worked. "Then it adds up all the items, and does the sales tax automatically. The person hands you the cash, or check, you type it in, and then give them the proper change."

Turning very slightly to his left, he pointed to the scanner. "This is really easy. All you have to do is look for the bar code and swipe it over the red section. When you hear the little beeping noise, you'll know that it recognized the item. Got it so far?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I got it all. I've seen people do it hundreds of times," I said, happy I didn't stutter like a bumbling buffoon.

"Yeah, well, here comes the hard part," he smiled, showing me his perfectly straight teeth. His braces from a few years ago paid off. "Every now and then an item won't register, and that's when you have to type in a code."

"A code?" God, I'm terrible with numbers. Sure, my dad's an accountant, but that doesn't mean I'm some kind of math whiz. I barely made it through Geometry, so how am I supposed to know codes?

He cracked a smile at my whine, and I was glad a got him to smile, even if it was for something stupid like my hatred of numbers. "There are codes for basic food products, then there are the special items and sale items, which have different codes." I furrowed my brows. Seeing this, Oliver reached behind the register and pulled out a laminated sheet of paper. "This," he continued, handing me the paper, "will be your best friend for the next month or two."

Looking it over, I noticed that it had a list of products and their codes. It was a pretty long list, and I knew I would have to put an effort in to memorizing the numbers if I wanted to get anywhere with this job. When I went to hand it back to him, he continued. "One of these is always posted at a cashier's station, so you'll always have one and don't have to worry about losing one."

I nodded, letting him know I understood what he was saying. I was still finding it hard to communicate when we were this close together. Unfortunately, Oliver stepped out of the tight space and moved down to the end of the lane, where the bagger bags the stuff.

"Here is the conveyor belt. After the cashier scans everything, the bagger puts everything in the bags. All of these right here," he motioned to the spot just in front of him, "are the plastic ones. People normally use those, but the paper bags are underneath here in case a customer asks for one. It's basically just common sense. No food and chemical products go together. Harder, more sturdy stuff goes on the bottom, and softer, more fragile stuff goes near the top. Got it?"

I nodded. I guess the look on my face suggested that I was overwhelmed, because Oliver smiled and leaned against the stand. "It really isn't as hard as it sounds. I guess it's just an information overload. You'll get used to it, I swear."

After that, he went on to explain the different departments of the store and tell me what I should do when a customer returns something in the check out lanes. "Usually a person will come by with a shopping cart and gather everything. So all you have to do is hold on to it until then, and then give it to the person. Pretty simple."

Soon, it was lunch time, and Oliver showed me where to go for that. "Hey," he said when I pulled out my schedule for him to look at, "we have really similar working hours, and we have lunch together too. This is cool, now I'll have someone to talk to."

I smiled. He was looking forward to talking with me! When he said that, I suddenly found it very hard to control my face from turning an embarrassing shade of pink.

Oliver led me in to a large room filled with about ten large, round tables. A few vending machines lined the walls, along with a refrigerator, microwave, and coffee maker. I opened the fridge, expecting to see my brown bagged lunch resting in the back, where I left it, but it wasn't there. When Oliver noticed that I had been digging through the fridge for a somewhat long amount of time, he sighed.

"Sorry, Lilly, but someone probably ate it. You have to put your name or initials on everything around here or else someone will take it," he explained, walking over to the vending machine. He dropped a few dollars worth of quarters in to a slot and got two bottles of lemonade. "No worries," he grinned, tossing me one of the bottles. "My mom always packs a lunch fit for a king, so I'll have plenty to share."

I smiled. I knew there was a reason I liked this boy.

We sat down at a table, ate our lunch, and did a bit of talking in between bites of food. Oliver explained more about some of the people working here and what types of jobs there are, aside from manning the register. Surprisingly, he would laugh at the few jokes I made and seemed to genuinely like talking to me. That only made the butterflies multiply.

I think I'm gonna like this job.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**So, good or bad? This chapter wasn't the best, considering I just had to explain some of the grocery store stuff (fingers crossed I was right!) and there really wasn't that much Loliver, except for the lunch and the cramped space. But I think it turned out alright. Anyways, I'll try my best to write a better chapter and post it on time! Review, please! I'll respond to all of them! And last time, almost everyone was really nice and wrote me a long review, and it made me especially happy. Seriously, you guys can talk about the story, ideas, or even just random junk. Those are the best reviews. I'm looking forward to hopefully reading some more of those! Toodles!**

**xoxo,  
****Parakeet17**


	5. Men and Midol

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry about the wait . . . again. I seriously never expected my summer to be this busy (in a fun way) and that I wouldn't get a lot of time to work on my stories and oneshots, but I was wrong. Either way, I didn't get a chance to respond to all of the reviews, but thank you! I got sixteen reviews! Seriously, you all are amazing. So, I'll stop my little rant and let you read the chapter. Enjoy! **

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

"Mom, hurry up! I have to be there in . . ." I stole a glance at the time on the microwave, "five minutes! And it's a ten minute drive!"

"Honey, I'm a bit tied up right now," she whispered, holding the palm of her hand over the bottom of her cell phone, apparently so her boss wouldn't hear. Her clothes were all twisted and wrinkled, and she was partially dressed in her pajamas. I could see it would take some time.

I nodded to her understandingly. Smiling, I raced up the stairs, barged through the door to Ben's bedroom, and pounced on his bed. "Ben! Wake up! I need a ride to work! Mom can't take me and I need to be there like _right now_!" I was literally inches from his ear, and I could tell by the moaning and fidgeting that he had heard me. How could you not?

"Umf . . . are you sure mom can't take you?" He groggily groaned, trying his best to kick me off his bed.

I slid off. "I'm positive. Can you please just give me a ride there? You don't even have to get dressed or anything. Just, you know, get in the car and take me there." One look at his expression, and I knew I'd need a bit of leverage to get him functioning. "I'll do all your chores tonight, and I'll buy you a smoothie from Rico's. Now will you _please_ just take me now?"

If looks could kill, the glare he gave me would have stopped my heart in less than a second. He fumbled in his bed, trying to untangle the sheets from around him, and grumbled, looking around until he spotted the keys to his car. "Let's go," he moaned.

I practically ran down the stairs, nearly tripping myself in the process. That couldn't have been good. I'm sure Ben would much rather drive me to work than to the emergency room. When I saw how Ben's walking speed seemed to resemble that of a sloth, I tapped my foot impatiently. Sure, he gave me another death glare, but he did speed up a bit. I know I can make him upset when I do things like this, but I'm doing his chores _and_ buying him a smoothie. All he has to do is drive me to work. I honestly think he has the better end of the deal, so why is he acting like this is the end of the world? Whatever. Older brothers are weird.

Once we were both in the car, I couldn't sit still. I tapped my foot, constantly changed the radio station, made random little comments about the weather, and fiddled around with the collar on my polo shirt. Also, I think it's safe to say that should my career plan fail, I have a good future in dashboard drumming. We somehow managed to go a little over the speed limit without getting caught, and had a successful streak of all green lights. Ten minutes after diving on to Ben's bed, I was finally at work. Sure, I was late, but it was only by about five minutes. What could they do?

"Bye Ben! Thank you so much! I promise to keep up my end of the deal!" I shouted as I ran towards the front doors and he slowly peeled out of the parking lot. I dashed through the sliding doors, made a sharp left turn, and bolted in to the faculty room. I took my little slip of paper and punched it in, only four minutes behind schedule.

The manager, who was conveniently right in front of me, gave me a look and wagged his finger at me, his own way of telling me not to do that again. God, it was only by four minutes. Chill out. Looking to my right, I peeked through a window and saw Oliver already at his station, using some cleaning supplies and a paper towel to clean the conveyor belt.

I caught his eye and smiled. He smiled, nodded, and motioned me over. When I caught up with him only a few seconds later, he greeted me a good morning, and showed me how to clean the belt. "It really only needs to be cleaned every now and then," he said, continuing from what he had just been telling me. "Normally people just clean it if they don't want to talk to someone or have to deal with a customer. And the best thing is that you can't get punished. All you're doing is disinfecting the belt to make people's lives healthier, right?" he smirked and I smiled back at him.

"Anyways," Oliver stuck the roll of paper towels and spray bottle of supplies under the counter and looked at me. "The manager told me to have you follow me around for the first few days, just to get the hang of things."

"I'll stick to you like a shadow," I joked.

Honestly, this could be the best thing that's ever happened to me so far in my lifetime. I'm not even kidding. Quite possibly even better than when I found out Miley was secretly teen pop sensation Hannah Montana. I get to have something good for college applications, my mom would say the job makes me a well rounded person, and I get to stay by Oliver and see him constantly. Even better, I get paid for it.

He laughed, making the butterflies go crazier than normal, and started walking towards the right side of the store. "What we're gonna be doing for a little while is what we call breakdown. It doesn't really have anything to do with the word, but it sounds better and cooler than just making the aisles look more spiffy."

I laughed. It wasn't even that funny. It's a bad habit I have when talking to cute guys.

"All you do is go through the aisles and straighten them up a bit. All the boxes or things that are pushed to the back, you bring forward. You turn everything so it's straight and facing the customer with the label out."

Turning in to the first aisle, he pointed to the laundry detergent. "For example, we don't have any more of that yet. The shipment doesn't come in until later this week, so for now this is all we have."

I looked over the large, blue bottles. There were only six. Normally when I come here, there are at least ten more. Or, well, it looks like that. "So you just do this?" Reaching up on my tip-toes, I formed two nice rows of three with the detergent, each label facing out. I looked to my right, where I saw that Oliver's eyebrows were slightly raised and he was smiling a little.

"Exactly like that," he grinned, moving on to the dishwashing soap and sponges. You know, I think I'm gonna get used to this place.

We went on like that for a while. Sure, sometimes there were customers in the aisle preventing us to do our job, or their carts were blocking where we needed to be, but we patiently waited, never making ourselves too obvious. Oliver and I laughed about random things, sometimes quietly snickering at a person's crazy outfit or dramatic phone conversation. To my surprise, he seemed to be having fun. He seemed to actually like talking to me, like I was a really close friend. Hmmm. Maybe he's suffering from lack of sleep or something.

Our lunch break finally came after hours of rearranging aisles, stocking some aisles, trying to understand the multitude of codes a cashier has to memorize, and dealing with fussy customers. Grocery stores are crazy things. Very hectic, more than you would imagine.

Stepping in the lunch room, I remembered to grab my lunch out of the fridge. I had bought an actual lunchbox with my name clearly printed in big, bold letters on the front.

Take that, stupid lunch thief.

I sat down across from Oliver this time, unlike yesterday when I sat beside him. I think if I sat next to him again he might be a bit freaked out. Considering, you know, we weren't sharing a lunch today. But I'm not gonna lie, I think I liked yesterday better. He gave me the tour, was really nice, shared his lunch, _and_ bought me a can of lemonade. It doesn't get much better than that.

"Ugh, you wouldn't believe the lady I was taking to just now," he moaned. I had been working with him, but the time for our lunch our came up, and this woman demanded that Oliver talk to her about something. Oliver, being nice, let me go ahead, but it couldn't have taken long, because he only arrived a minute after I did. When I told him this, he rolled his eyes.

"No, but she went on a rant about how she couldn't find the right aisle. I offered to help her, but then she told me that she already found it and bought what she wanted. She just thought she'd tell me that it took her an extra three minutes. I informed her that there's a hanging list right above every aisle, letting people know what's there. And with that, she left in a huff. I swear, she was insane. She didn't even have real eyebrows! They were drawn on! Can you honestly say that isn't creepy?"

I laughed. "I wish I could say that's the weirdest thing I've heard of, but I can't. It's not as bizarre as the time I was over at my grandma's house and she had friends over. One had really excessive make up on, and without being rude or anything, I asked her how she got it off. She told me she has a special scrub, but the eyeliner never comes off. I asked her why. Her response? It was tattooed on. And trust me, the thought of an aging friend of my grandma's wearing permanent eyeliner scares me more than drawn on eyebrows."

We talked and laughed even more during the lunch period. Is it weird that I think of him as a friend now? Just as I though that, Oliver spoke up after a few moments of silence. "So, Lilly, in case we ever wanted to hang out together, can I have your cell phone number? If you want, I can give you mine."

I smiled. Inside, fireworks were going off and the butterflies were having a party. I wouldn't be surprised if the smile on my face was so big it turned in to some creepy grimace or something like that. "Yeah, sure," I said, pulling my cell phone out of my back pocket. Technically we weren't supposed to carry them around, but everyone did. As long as they were on silent or off, and didn't interfere with your work, they were fine.

We exchanged numbers, and Oliver forced me to save him in my list of contacts as Smokin' Oken. I only made him save my name with an exclamation point, but still. _Lilly!_ sounds a lot better than just _Lilly_, don't you think? Eh, I think so.

The day went on like that, nothing more exciting than when Oliver and I exchanged numbers. But at the end of the day, I was cracking up. Oliver apparently stubbed his toe really hard and was asking around for some pain reliever. Fortunately for him, a girl named Caitlyn had some. Unfortunately for him, it was Midol.

"What? No, I'm fine, really, I am. I don't need it. I swear, I'll be okay. I don't need it," he pleaded with Caitlyn. She has a bit of a reputation for being tough. She's definitely very nice and sweet, but you don't want to get on her bad side.

"Come on, Oliver, it's like five regular pain relievers all wrapped in one. If you're in pain, Midol is the way to go." Funny. She sounded like an infomercial.

"But, isn't Midol for girls . . . and, you know, that thing . . ." Oliver's uneasy facial expressions and uncomfortable feeling was making me laugh so hard that my ribs were beginning to ache.

"Yeah, it is," Caitlyn argued, taking another step towards Oliver with her outstretched hand holding the tiny pill now directly in front of his face. "But it works like freaking magic. Seriously, just try it. If it works, no more complaining about it, and if it doesn't . . . well, your loss."

"Convincing argument," Oliver grumbled, slowly reaching his hand up to grab the tiny pill. He had his water bottle in hand and, after one last desperate look at me for help, he swallowed it with ease. "Ugh, I can't believe I just did that," he repeated to himself as he gathered his things for the day. "Bye you guys. See you later." I saw him hop on his skateboard and start riding home. Wait, he skateboards? I never knew.

I was in the car with my mom on the way home when my phone started vibrating. It was a text message. From Oliver. I flipped open my phone and laughed at the small message.

**. . . it worked.**

I think this could be the start of a very good friendship.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**So, I realize that this is another filler chapter, sort of, but the relationship between Lilly and Oliver grew! I have a plan, but none of you will know until it happens. Mwahaha, I'm so evil. Haha. And, as always, if anyone has any ideas or suggestions, my mind is open to any of them! Knowing me, I'll probably incorporate them in to the story somehow. Also, review! You guys rocked it last time, now let's see if you can beat that. I'll even give you virtual fudge, which is ten times better than virtual cookies, in my opinion. Haha, talk to you guys later! I'll try to post the next chapter sometime soon, but I'm not making any promises! Don't forget to review! Bye!**

**xoxo,  
****Parakeet17**

**PS: Has anyone heard the new singles by All Time Low, Boys Like Girls, and Demi Lovato? I can't get them out of my head! Seriously. Go to YouTube and listen to them. They're amazing!**


	6. Closing the Gap

**A/N: I know. I suck. I genuinely suck. And when I explain why I haven't updated, it's not an excuse. It's a legit reason, I swear. Well, I think I've said this, but I babysat a kid pretty much all last week and the week before, and we did insane hours. My sister and I would watch him for about 11 hours per day. And then I finally finished that and had a jam-packed weekend (including, a sleepover with a friend I haven't seen in forever, catching up on sleep the day after, babysitting little kids, and going to a PHENOMINAL Jonas Brothers concert). Not to mention I just got braces. But now I'm free. I should be free for the next two weeks, and then my weekend is filled, then a free week, then a week long vacation. Sorry. You probably don't wanna hear all about my hectic schedule, but I'm just saying this now to warn you all: updates will be scattered. I adore this story. I really do. But I've been surprisingly social, and it doesn't seem to be slowing down anytime soon. Before I know it, school will be back again (insert shudders here) and my time might be limited more. Who knows? But anyways, thank you for all of the incredible reviews!! I believe I got sixteen . . . hope that's right, and thanks to all who've reviewed! I love the long ones, as I've said before, and I got plenty of those. Yay! Anyways, I'll stop extending this incredibly long author's note with my rant and let you read the story. Enjoy!**

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

After another two days of work, it was my first day off. Not gonna lie, I had been pretty disappointed when I learned that I don't get my paycheck until after two weeks of work, but I quickly got over it. I had just been happy that within less than a week, Oliver and I had moved past the awkward stares and uncomfortable silences and became . . . friends. During work we'd talk to each other and laugh as Oliver tried to teach me the ropes of working at the grocery store. Our lunches were spent sitting at the same table, laughing at stupid jokes or silly high school moments. No, I couldn't talk to him about everything like I could with Miley, but I have a feeling that we're working our way towards that point. Slowly but surely.

Speaking of Miley, where was she? She was supposed to meet me here fifteen minutes ago. She wanted more details on my working experience. Especially if the details consisted of a certain floppy-haired boy. We'd talked on the phone endlessly each day after work, but there's only so much you can say when each of us had older brothers potentially tapping in to our conversation. And with Miley's boy-loathing dad and my mom trying to nudge her way in my life anyway she could, the only place we could ever spill everything to each other was when we were at the beach or the mall. Even the Hannah concerts were off limits due to nosy paparazzi. So here I am now.

So here I am, sitting at the food court by the mall all by myself. And she can't even say that she doesn't know where I am, because we sit at the same table each time. The third one back, only a few feet to the right of the carousel. It's our spot. So where the heck is she?

Almost as if she's read my mind, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Pulling it out, I noticed it was a text message from her.

**Sorry, Lilly. Emergency Hannah thing. I'll make it up to you.**

I'm pretty sure Miley and I are the only ones who text with proper grammar. Everyone else abbreviates things, yet we still take the time to capitalize and insert things like commas. I know. We're freaks.

But now what am I supposed to do? I specifically didn't make any plans for today so that I could hang out with Miley. Now that Miley isn't coming . . . well, that puts a damper on things. And I can't just get up and leave, either. What if someone's watching me? They'll think I've been stood up. Oh, I know what I'll do. I'll make a whole scene of fumbling for my phone, reading a text, making some dramatic facial expression, then walk out like I had somewhere important to be. Yes, that'll work.

I'll pull out my phone in five, four, three, two . . .

**Hey. I c u.**

_What?_ I glanced at the phone only to see the words Smokin' Oken flashing across the top of the screen. Of course. But . . . where is he?

Closing my phone and sliding it back in my pocket, I glanced around. For a Saturday afternoon, it was surprisingly empty. And no one had shaggy brown hair like Oliver. So unless he got some new haircut, he isn't here.

Just as I was about to pull out my phone, I heard someone call my name. "Lilly!" I heard it again. I realized it was coming from above me. Glancing up, I saw a hand hanging out over the top level of the carousel. I waited a few seconds until it came around again. Then I saw Oliver's head extending over the safety railing and his hand waving at me. "Hi Lilly!"

I had to wait another couple of seconds before he came around again. "Hi Oliver!" Sure, some people gave us weird looks and a few glares, but I didn't mind. My crush, who also happened to be my newest friend, was calling my name and waving. It would be rude to just ignore him.

Standing up, I walked over to the exit of the ride and stood there for a few minutes until the ride slowed to a stop. I watched as people poured out of the gate, mostly little kids smiling up at nauseous parents, and wondered if I had just imagined Oliver. But after a few more seconds, I saw him walking down the stairs and out the gate.

"Hey Lilly," he greeted, smiling. "Uh, this," he reached behind him and gently pushed a little girl in front of him, "is my little sister Olivia."

Oliver has a sister? Why didn't he mention this at all? "Hi," the girl squeaked out. Her voice was soft and it was obvious she was shy and slightly uncomfortable with meeting a new person.

"Hi Olivia, my name is Lilly. I'm Oliver's friend," I offered a small wave and she smiled.

"Yeah, I know. Oliver always talks about you to his friends. He never thinks I'm listening, but I am." Did she just say what I think she just said? I think I'm gonna like this girl, and that's not even including the cute factor.

Oliver awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, we work together and have fun. Of course I'm gonna tell people our wacky stories and jokes." There was a part of me that felt like it wasn't the truth. And there was another part of me that saddened that that's all he told to his friends.

I chuckled a bit to ease to uncomfortable atmosphere. "Yeah, well I'd probably be sharing stories with Miley if she were here. I was supposed to meet up with her about twenty minutes ago, but she had some kind of family emergency." I shrugged to let him know it wasn't anything serious. A family emergency is always a good excuse for an absence, because people never dig deeper. They just hear it and accept it.

"Oh, that bites," he said, making a face to show he didn't like the situation. But after a few seconds of silence, he shrugged and changed the topic. See, I told you. No one ever digs deeper, therefore making it the perfect excuse. "Hey, did you want something from the food court?"

I couldn't tell if he was talking to me or Olivia, but when I noticed his gaze flickered between mine and Olivia's, I shrugged. "I could go for some nachos right now."

"Oliver! I don't want nachos!" Olivia stomped her foot on the ground like any other frustrated little kid.

"Deal with it," he said in the nicest tone possible, still letting her know that she couldn't have her way.

"I bet Mom and Dad would let me get something else," she complained. And almost on cue, she spotted them on the other side of the food court, about to order some smoothies. "I'm going with them! Bye!"

Within seconds she was gone and I stifled a laugh. "You didn't tell me you had a little sister, or that she was so adorable."

"Ha, adorable is one word for her. Sure, she's my sister and I'd kill for her, but then she acts like what she is: an annoying eight year old," he groaned, pulling out a few dollar bills from his pocket and walking to the food stand.

"I can pay, you know." I started digging around in my pocket for money but Oliver held his hand up.

"Don't fret, Lil. I got this." He just called me Lil! I have a nickname!

Instead of pushing it, I remembered what all teen magazines had said. _If he offers to pay, you can do the same. When he refuses to have you pay anything, let him do what he wants._ No problems there.

I stopped ransacking my pockets and smiled. "Thanks."

Soon we had our two orders of nachos sitting in front of us at some random table. We ate in silence for a while, both feeling slightly awkward at seeing each other outside of work or school. Finally I couldn't stand the silence anymore and I looked around for some kind of conversation starter. It was then that I noticed the shirt he was wearing.

"Hey, is that The Maine on your shirt?"

He looked down at what he was wearing and smiled. "Yeah, they're one of my favorite bands. I was actually going to see them in concert last year, I even had the cash ready, but then my parents surprised me with a family reunion, so I had to miss it. You a fan?"

"Yes! They're music is amazing and John O'Callaghan is so . . ." I trailed off, looking at Oliver's face. His eyebrow was cocked, and a smirk was playing on his lips. "So . . . good at singing?" I finished, blushing at Oliver's chuckle.

Wait. I have an idea.

"So . . . you said you're a big fan, right?"

"Yeah, I love them."

"So you wouldn't mind going to one of their concerts?" Oliver stared at me, open mouthed. "I mean, I have tickets to one of their concerts. I'm in the process of paying my mom back for what she paid, but I've got the tickets. My mom doesn't wanna go, and Miley has clearly showed me that she'd rather be somewhere else, and you're a fan, so I wondering . . . did you want to come with me to the concert?"

Oliver was stuttering and tripping over his words. "Are you kidding me?" I shook my head, a small smile forming on my face at his reaction. "I'd love to! That'd be fantastic! Thank you so much, Lilly!"

What he did next surprised me. He actually stood up, walked over to my side of the table, bent down, and hugged me. Best four seconds of my life.

How do Miley's plans always seem to work?

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

After a long weekend, including getting hugged by Oliver and later blabbing all about it to Miley over the phone (not to mention my brother making fun of me later, when I found out he'd been listening on the other line and I promptly gave him a hard punch to the shoulder), I was back at work, feeling better than ever, though slightly nervous at the same time.

Miley told me that, now that I had accomplished a friendship with Oliver, I had to start dropping hints so he would see me as more girlfriend material than a good friend. But I'm Lilly. Have you ever seen me try to flirt? It usually includes me fumbling over my words, stuttering like crazy, tripping over objects, my face turning the color of a radish, and accidentally saying something either insulting or embarrassing. Usually both. So how am I supposed to go about doing this without making a complete fool of myself?

I was so uneasy, it was like my hands were wrestling. I tend to wring them when I'm nervous. Usually people either ask to smell my hands or borrow some lotion, which I don't have. Whatever.

But when I walked through the sliding doors into the store, my workplace, that morning, I was greeted by a different scene than usual. Instead of seeing workers moping around and slowly making their way to their proper stations, I saw people, mostly teens, running around and laughing.

What?

Picking up my pace, I power walked closer to the sight in front of my eyes. It looked as if it was girls against guys. Instead of using water balloons or water guns like usual, they were all using the spray bottles used for cleaning the conveyor belts. And I'm not gonna lie, it looked like fun. A lot of fun.

"Lilly! Help!" I turned my head slightly to the left and saw Kelly, a high school graduate using this job to pay for college, being attacked with squirt bottles by two other guys, while hers was empty. Happy to join in, I reached underneath the nearest check-out station and grabbed a squirt bottle.

"Kelly! Throw yours to me!" She did as I said, nearly whacking some guy in the nose with the bottle. Once I caught that, I gave her a quick heads up, and then threw the filled squirt bottle to her. I then sprinted to the nearest bathroom and filled the bottle with water. Just as I was about to run back and help the girls fight, Oliver blocked my path.

"Hey, Oliver. What are you . . ." I was cut off when he pulled out a clear squirt bottle from behind his back. With that stupid, cute smirk playing on his lips, I should have seen this coming. I slowly stepped back, but then darted down some random aisle of the store.

He was close on my tail, and every few seconds, I could feel a light douse of water on my back, knowing that, at this pace, it would be soaked in a matter of minutes. I finally decided to stop running. Turning around, I saw that his bottle was practically empty, whereas mine was completely full. He gave me a wide-eyed look, and then bolted in the opposite direction. I sprinted after him.

I caught up to him quickly and sprayed him non-stop, soaking his shirt all the way through and covering most of his back. "Ha, take that, Oken!" Thank god for skateboarding. Without it, I wouldn't have good leg muscles, meaning that I wouldn't have been able to catch up with him. Ha! Even better for me, he had accidentally run down a dead-end aisle. I've got him now.

And then it was just like any other chick flick or story where the girl is trying to get the guy. I, being an idiot, didn't double knot my shoes today like my mom always taught me. Therefore making the laces come undone. And you can guess what happened next. Yeah, I tripped. And you know who caught me?

Oliver.

I gotta say, he should try out for track. I wasn't even that close to him. But once he saw me going down, he ran over and caught me in his arms before I did a major face plant on the hard tile floor. And what, does he go to the gym every day or something? Because that's the first thing I noticed. He was strong enough to catch me and pull me up seemingly effortlessly. And trust me, when you're a teenage girl holding on to a teenage guy's arms to make sure you don't fall, you tend to notice things like their muscles. And how strong they are. Stupid hormones, stop making me go all crazy!

Once he pulled me up, he let go, much to my dismay. I looked down at all the dust that had clung to my wet shirt and tried to swipe it off. Once I was pretty sure that I had gotten it all off, I looked up. It was then that I realized how close we were standing. I'm guessing we were only six inches apart, but it felt even closer. He was looking straight into my eyes, and I was positively swooning.

"Lilly are you alright? You nearly broke your wrist falling down! Did you get hurt anywhere?" He looked so concerned that I couldn't help but smile. "Sorry," he blushed, "I usually babysit for my little sister and have to go through this whole routine of asking her if anything hurts. It just kind of blurted out."

I smiled even more. "No, it's alright. I'm fine. My shoes just tried to kill me, but whatever." I shrugged, slightly laughing at how ridiculous I must have looked. Sure, I had just insult4ed my shoes, but I was secretly praising them. Without their help, I wouldn't have gotten Oliver to help me.

He was smiling. I was smiling. We were standing only a few inches apart, and I was reminded of all the movies. This is where they both slowly lean in and kiss. They feel all the fireworks, pull apart, and decide that they love each other. I was playing this possible scenario in my head over and over again, when I finally noticed that we actually were slowly leaning in. We were still smiling, and both of us had started to close our eyes and the gap between us shrank.

_Holy crap, I'm about to kiss Oliver!_

We were less than an inch apart now, and the butterflies in my stomach were almost going to explode from excitement. Our eyes were completely closed, we were both standing there, our arms had reached up to hold on to each other, and the space between us was near extinction when . . .

"Truscott! Oken! Stop flirting and get back to work!" Have I ever mentioned how much I truly hate that manager?

We snapped apart, both flushing and blushing like there was no tomorrow. "Well, I, uhm, uh, we should, uh . . ." Oliver was the color of a fire truck and he was rubbing the back of his neck with the palm of his hand. I was the same shade of crimson and rubbing my arm rather roughly, one of my own nervous habits.

"Yeah, we should, uh, get back to work . . ." With that, we both gave each other a half smile, a awkwardly brief stare, and turned around, heading back towards our proper work stations. All I have to say is . . .

Best. Day. Ever.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**I know it doesn't make up for my unnecessarily long absence, but this chapter is an extra thousand words longer than most! And it was adorable! We had an almost-kiss! Plus, Oliver showed his sweet side and you got to meet his sister! Woo! Because of my lack of the ability to update on time, I tried not to make this a filler chapter, like the last few have been. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it! And although I don't really deserve them, please leave a review! It'll make my day and I SWEAR I'll respond! Pinky promise! So, please click that little button down there and drop a review! And if you have any funny stories or ideas, feel free to share! Remember, the longer, the better! Haha, anyways, I hope you liked this chapter! I'll work on the next one whenever I can! Thanks!**

**xoxo,  
****parakeet17**


End file.
